


Movie Night (Press F for Jack)

by StaplerQueen (Bananaise_San)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coughing, Crying, Family Feels, Fever, Flu, Fluff, Gabriel (Mentioned) - Freeform, Gen, Happy Birthday Jack I gave you the flu, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Kline Whump, Jack and his dads are having a 'Long Night' TM, Mary (mentioned) - Freeform, More tags to be added, Nausea, Sam getting dunked on in the worst way, Sickfic, Swine Flu, Vomiting, Whump, going through the five stages of grief via the Emoji Movie, headache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananaise_San/pseuds/StaplerQueen
Summary: Movie Night was usually Jack's favorite night of the week. Tonight however Jack is going to have a real bad time.





	1. Movie Night

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Jack, you get the flu.

Tuesday was movie night.

It had become tradition.

 

Whatever Winchester’s were available at the time along with Cas, Jack, and whatever close friends they could drag to join them would gather to watch a movie in the “man cave.”

 

Movie singular because 90% of the time it was just “The Lost Boys” and “dragged” because you’d have to lure most people in with the prospect of popcorn and snacks to get them to sit through it.

 

The sameness of it was soothing, comforting, Everyone had a job to do. Sam, Dean and Cas shared responsibility for finding dinner and snack runs. Jack made the popcorn and got to feel useful.

 

Jack was aware it was probably partially for his benefit, but he didn’t mind.

 

No matter what was going on Sam, Dean and Cas would do their best to close up shop and rush back to the Bunker in time to be there.

 

It was his favorite day of the week.

 

Usually.

 

\---

 

“Whoa… that’s burning.” Dean said in mild alarm, quickly pulling the Jiffy-pop Jack was minding off the stovetop and clicking off the gas.

 

Jack blinked at Dean feeling a thousand miles away.

 

“Sorry…” he mumbled.

 

“It’s just popcorn you don’t have to apologize…” Dean plucked gingerly at the foil bubble trying to salvage what was left. “Just remember you have to kinda… you know shake it as it cooks.”

 

“Right… sorry…” Jack muttered swallowing gingerly and reaching for the can of Cola™ he’d been sipping at from were it had been resting beside the stove.

 

“ _He’s one and a half, beer is only for special occasions don’t push it…_ ” Cas had given Sam and Dean a strong talking to about the issue during their celebration of his return from the dead.

 

Not that beer sounded particularly appetizing at the moment. Nothing really had since Jack had woken up that morning.

 

As soon as he’d opened his eyes he’d found his throat dry and itchy, and the normally cool underground bunker freezing. Like when they stayed in a motel where someone had turned up the AC to high overnight.

 

He’d had to force himself to eat the Chinese food Sam and Dean had brought home on their way back from their Rugaru hunt. His favorite orange chicken (that no one else would touch due to it “tasting like it was made with soda syrup”) had seemed positively sickly even to him. He’d pushed it aside after a few bites with a muttered “too sweet” and just picked instead at the rice it came with.

 

He was only partially aware of them still talking about the Rugaru hunt now. Jack let himself fade into the background leaning tiredly against the counter.

 

“The dude was huge, almost came up to Sammy’s chin and was at least a Sammy and a half wide...”

 

Dean pulled out a chilled six pack of beer and an ice pack from icebox, gesturing the proportions vaguely with the butt of one bottle before cracking it open and tossing Sam the ice.

 

Sam caught the ice pack and pressed it to the rising bruise on his cheekbone.

 

“He threw a frying pan at me, of all things. It was weird, Rugaru are usually more feral, you know ripping people apart, eating raw meat… but this guy… I don’t know, maybe we were onto something that this was Michael related, because he was remarkably sane…”

 

Dean snorted, “dude was serving people burgers to soccer mom’s...”

 

“Sane here is a relative term I think…” Cas said neutralizing the potential argument before it could really start.

 

Jack just smiled a little too himself coughing as softly as possible into the back of his hand. “Even the arguing is nice sometimes” he thought foggily.

 

He felt weird he decided, finally stepping away from the stove the heat coming off it seeming to take up residence somewhere in his core.

 

“The floor looks cool…” passed vaguely through his brain. He paused for a moment when the thought left his head and he couldn’t pull it back for the life of him.

 

He felt… confused, and tired, deeply to his bones. His body felt like he’d spent most of his day training with Bobby and Sam, getting knocked on his butt over and over; even when all he’d done was try to research new hunts with Cas in the library. No matter how much coffee he went through his brain refused to work for most of the day.

 

Someone was attempting to hand him a bowl of something and he took it mechanically not really looking at what it contained.

 

He didn’t know what was going on… but he didn’t like it.

 

“Jack?”

 

Sam’s voice.

 

“Hmm?” Jack blinked up owlishly.

 

“We got your favorite,”

 

Jack looked down, the bowl was full of mini “Nutty Cream” nougat bars.

 

“Oh…” he said vaguely.

 

Sam smiled at him a little bemused, “Where’s your head at buddy?”

 

“I left it on my pillow this morning” he didn’t say aloud in favor of shrugging, it didn’t seem worth aggravating the burning in his throat.

 

Sam looked like he was going to say something else but was distracted by Dean again.

 

“So while Sam was on his 27th concussion…”

 

“Dean!”

 

“Excuse me 28th…”

 

And now Jack no longer felt like it was worth the effort to remain present in this conversation. He stared blankly at the bowl of candy and shuffled off to put it down in the movie room/man cave.

 

They’d all be there soon anyway. He careful put the bowl down on the table between the two armchairs closest to the tv before sitting heavily on the old leather couch that had more recently been dragged in.

 

He sighed softly the coolness of leather felt nice on his skin and aching joints. His throat itched and burned at him again and he coughed into the back of his hand again noticing forlornly he’d left his drink in the other room.

 

Whatever.

 

Cas seemed to have a similar escape plan to him because he entered about a minute later balancing a series of snack bowls in his arms rather haphazardly.

 

Jack felt bad when he didn’t get up to help him.

 

“It must have been hard to listen to them going on like that… I’m sorry…” Cas said, befuddling Jack when he realized he was taking to him.

 

Jack just shrugged hoping that was a good enough response to whatever Cas as talking about. The low lights in the room were starting to make his head throb, he just hoped Sam and Dean would arrive soon so they could turn them off.

 

He jumped a little when Cas sat down beside him.

 

“I know you hate being cooped up here, the moment we find something concrete I swear we’ll go out together to help.”

 

Jack could feel the loading wheel spinning in his brain, it was kind of painful actually.

 

“To do what?”

 

It was Cas’s turn to look confused, “to go on a hunt? To look for clues to finding Michael? Sam and Dean think you’re ready to have a more active role.”

 

“I think I’m okay here for now…” Jack thinks, then mutters aloud. Jack didn’t want to fight anyone on any given day, not really, he just wanted to be helpful. “Can’t I be helpful and sleep for a week?” he thought dully.

 

Cas was just staring at him eyebrows furrowed now, “Jack I know you’re upset but sarcasm isn’t…”

 

Jack was saved from having to figure out just what the hell Cas was talking about now by Sam and Dean finally entering.

 

“Okay, we’ve got food, beer, you just get pop today” he handed Jack back the drink he left at the stove.

 

Jack sipped the drink gratefully but then grimaced, it was lukewarm in his mouth and would do nothing for his fried throat. He suddenly didn’t want to swallow it and surreptitiously spit back into the can.

 

“Movie night is a go…” Dean dropped into one of the armchairs and attempted to reach for the familiar VHS on the tv center but Sam slapped his hand away.

 

Dean gave him a petulant look.

 

“It’s not your turn…” Sam said unphased.

 

“Fine but if you pick another documentary on Steve Bundy’s high school years I’m leaving…”

 

“Quit pretending you don’t know it’s TED Bundy and besides it’s not my turn either…”

 

Then they both turned to look at Jack and Cas. Jack turned to look at Cas, who was looking at him. “Th-that’s okay,” he said quietly stifling another cough, it was getting frustrating at this point.

 

He didn’t feel like getting up to look, his sore bones were finally sinking into the couch in a semi-comfortable way, and standing up again just sounded… bad.

 

They were still looking at him. “Castiel hasn’t chosen in… even longer,” he said in explanation.

 

They finally stopped looking at him and Jack relaxed. Castiel looked a little taken aback but not unhappy. “Well then… thank you, Jack.” He gave him one last odd look before getting up.

 

Jack glazed over shutting out the world again using the cover of the three men poking and arguing over Netflix to relieve some of the itchy discomfort in his chest by coughing. The stress of it sent a pulse of pain and fear through his head and his body switched to shivering again.

 

He really didn’t feel right. He’d been trying not to think it but now that the thought had entered his mind he couldn’t make it go away.

 

His breathing picked up slightly and he found himself drawing his knees up to his chest. The memory of dying was fresh his mind but when he wiped at his face mouth there was no red. This was… different… and he didn’t understand.

 

He suddenly really wanted Cas to come back to the couch.

 

Cas seemed to have finally made his decision because Dean announced, “Okay… now we’re ready.” He gave Cas a odd disturbed look and plunked himself back down cranking back his armchair and grabbing one of the snack bowls..

 

Cas settled beside Jack on the couch looking pleased with himself.

 

“It’s called ‘The Emoji Movie’ your uncle Gabriel suggested to me…” Cas tells him smiling enthusiastically.

 

Jack just smiled back as pleasantly as he could manage, “Oh…”

 

“I’m pretty sure your brother was fucking with you Cas…” Dean said flatly.

 

Sam flicked off the lights and Dean offered his bowl of snacks at Jack. The strange medicine smell of licorice making something squirm uncomfortably in Jack’s middle and he quickly shook his head.

 

“No one ever wants that but you Dean…” Sam shook his head amused.

 

“I’m almost certain the plant that produces licorice root was created solely as some divine punishment,” Cas agreed.

 

“Okay now you’re all just being assholes, just start the damn movie…”

 

Jack found himself smiling and his heart calming down, despite everything, it was comforting. Safe… He tried to just settle in and focus on the movie.

 

\----

 

After fifteen minutes Jack decided he hated ‘The Emoji Movie’.

 

It was just… so bright. Every moment was a series of neon lights bouncing around the screen. Every moment of it seemed to grow the intensity of the throb in his forehead till every sudden movement of the brightly colored blob creatures felt like a dull spike in his brain.

 

Jack hid his face in his knees for a moment feeling dizzy trying to regain his bearings. Everything inside him seemed to shift around like they were following what was going on on-screen instead of his eyes. When he finally looked up again he tried to focus anywhere but the screen.

 

Cas was staring at the movie with a look of befuddlement and wonder, and when he looked up Dean was already popping open his second beer and shaking his head. Sam kept glancing not at the screen but between Cas and Dean amused.

 

He tried to focus on them too instead of the frantic movement on the screen. Then Sam’s eyes drifted to him and he quickly looked away and back at the movie some part of him ashamed. He didn’t feel like answering to him, he didn’t feel like moving at all except to lay down.

 

Jack felt his eyes burn, he just wanted it all to go away, he wanted someone to make it go away. He wished he still had his powers and knew a way to make it disappear from existence.

 

He coughed softly and soon found himself curled up closer to Cas despite himself. He could feel Cas’s body heat through his suit jacket and it was…nice. Jack closed his eyes trying to block out the screen and sound.

 

\----

 

Gabriel had definitely been fucking with him.

 

Castiel had been convinced at first that the movie was some sort of commentary on the societal expectations of humans to not expand beyond their expected roles, a standard which could easily be applied to angel hierarchy as well. Though after the movie’s fifth attempt at a toilet joke he had difficulty convincing himself that was likely.

 

Next Castiel had become annoyed that clearly, his brother had been attempting to draw him into his juvenile sense of humor. Furthermore he was concerned that such a film could have a negative effect on developing minds such as Jack’s.

 

After that Cas began to repeatedly tell himself if that he should still watch the movie in his brother’s memory since it was obviously important to him. Tomorrow he would try to convince Jack to watch something more mentally stimulating. Jack looked on the verge of tears anyway, clearly he must be connecting with the film on a level he didn’t comprehend.

 

Then, in a blaze of realization, Castiel recognized this was all a farce on Gabriel’s part and he was foolish to think his brother had enough of a connection to him to attempt to offer him anything more than that. He was an idiot, he had convinced his impressionable son along with two humans with very limited lifespans to waste precious time on watching this.

 

When Jack shifted to lean against his shoulder though Cas began to think that maybe sitting through this monument to the sins of sloth and greed was worth it. The warm pressure convinced him that for the first time in a while Jack was actually reaching out for affection.

 

After a few minutes though the heat coming off the boy began to really sink through the layers of Castiel’s clothing, becoming... uncomfortable. Like sitting too close to a furnace, and Jack was… shaking?

 

“Jack?” Cas called out quietly at first, worried when he didn’t respond except to press his head harder into his shoulder.

 

“Jack?” Cas called again gently shaking Jack and getting Sam and Dean’s attention.

 

Jack groaned softly and squinted painfully up at Cas, “what…”’ he mumbled grumpily..

 

“What’s up?” Sam turned around in his seat looking concerned.

 

“Could you stop the movie?” Castiel said quickly, eyebrows furrowed as he gently pressed his hands to Jack’s forehead and neck, the boy’s skin was clammy and hot.

 

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Dean said quickly hitting pause.

 

Sam flicked the lights on making Jack flinch violently pulling away from Cas’s hands to hide his face in his knees again shivering.

 

“You’re running a fever…” Cas says concerned gently coaxing Jack to look at him again. His cheeks were flushed red and he was squinting at the light like it was hurting him. Cas was kicking himself for not noticing it sooner.

 

Sam and Dean made their way back over and Jack’s face just turned redder.

 

Sam’s jaw tensed in fear, but Dean managed to keep his face mostly passive as he asked: “Is... is it coming back, is he…”

 

“ _Dying again?_ ” Dean didn’t say it but the question hung in the air and wasn’t helped when Jack muffled a cough in his knees and groaned.

 

Cas felt his vessel’s heart clench at the sound, “I… I don’t… Jack have you been feeling unwell?”

 

Jack didn’t look up but just nodded into his knees still shivering. Cas shrugged off his trenchcoat and laid it carefully over his shoulders. The boy immediately grabbed it and drew it tight around him. Cas shot Sam and Dean a worried look.

 

“For how long?” Sam asked under a veil of calm. Jack finally looked up face guilty and miserable.

 

“Th-this morning…” Jack said softly clearing his throat and wincing.

 

All three men’s shoulders relaxed a little at that.

 

“Is this like before are you…” _coughing up blood?_ Cas didn’t ask.

 

Jack eyes shone fearfully but he shook his head again. “I-I don’t…” he coughed again into his arm and rubbed at his throat with a grimace.

 

Castiel was practically vibrating with worry at this point, “Jack,” he said in his best dad voice, “I need to examine you alright?”

 

It was a mark of how tense everyone was that Dean didn’t make a snide remark at how invasive that statement sounded. Everyone including Jack held their breath as Cas placed a glowing hand over Jack’s damp forehead.

 

Cas sat back with a sigh after a minute.

 

“I don’t know what’s wrong…”

 

The tension in the room increased tenfold.

 

“Exactly, I don’t know exactly,” Cas says quickly, “but, he seems to have a virus. He’s not dying…”

 

The tension broke.

 

“You couldn’t have started with that?” Dean said incredulously finally dropping his crossed arms.

 

“So… he’s just… sick…?” Sam said trying not to smile in relief, Castiel wasn’t sure Jack would appreciate that.

 

“He’s just sick…” Cas nods.

 

Upon hearing that Jack turned to look at him eyes pleading, hopefully.

 

“I can’t heal you, it wouldn’t be wise,” Cas says feeling the look tug at his heartstrings to do just that. “Your body is human for the most part now, and despite how you look you’re very young. Healing every illness would be… irresponsible, and bad for your immunity in the long run.”

 

Jack wilted a little, eyes watering.

 

“Though you’re definitely getting a flu shot when this is over,” Sam says.

 

Cas was kicking himself somewhere in the celestial plane, “he should have gotten one a long time ago…”

 

Jack remained very quiet throughout the whole ordeal.  
“Do you need anything?” Sam asked concerned.

 

Jack just shook his head. “Water? A blanket… you’re shivering…” Jack paused considering the suggestion slowly before looking up and nodding.

 

“I’ll get a thermometer…” Cas said quickly getting up.

 

“I’ll get the other things…” Sam quickly followed suit, “Dean can you just…”

 

Dean still looked dumbfounded when he was left alone in the room with Jack a moment later, awkwardly looking between the sick boy and the door.

 

Dean waved awkwardly, “Hey…”

 

Jack just peered at him blankly and then winced tucking his face into the collar of his foster father’s coat.

 

His head must be killing him. Dean had he’d seen Sam go through one too many migraines when his psychic powers started manifesting not to notice the signs. He moved wordlessly to turn them off the keg lights in favor of a smaller lamp.

 

He just stood there for a moment considering what to do next before sitting a foot away from Jack on the couch.

 

Dean had never been great with the kid, not in the way Sam and Cas were.

 

It was more than a little ridiculous, he’d had more experience with kids than either of them. He’d had over a year helping Lisa with Ben, he’d practically raised Sam, hell for a very short time Dean had a daughter who much like Jack had grown rapidly from infant to teenager, a daughter by the way whom Sam had SHOT.

 

But Jack… Jack wasn’t like any of them, not even Emma. Jack was somehow both older and infinitely younger than any of them had been. When the kid had his mojo he could probably tell you how far Jupiter was from Mars if he squinted, but it had taken Sam three tries to teach him how to tie his shoes.

 

Jack was some strange thing who had completely bypassed many milestones only to desperately need help and guidance on others. And Dean was just about the worst at figuring when Jack needed that help.

 

And like the little kid that at least part of him still was he looked at his family (three ridiculously flawed men) as if they were his entire world. That terrified Dean.

 

There was no handbook on raising Nephilim, but if there was he’s sure he’d failed the moment he first took a shot at the kid, and then again with every word he’d aimed at him the first few weeks of his life.

 

Dean was pretty sure he’d dropped the ball in every conceivable way with Jack. If it was left up to him the kid would have become the monster they feared. He hadn’t even been able to stay in the room when Jack was dying.

 

_He was the reason Cas wasn’t there when Jack died, he was too busy dealing with Dean’s feelings._

 

He wasn’t there in the end when Jack needed him the most.

 

 Just like your dad wasn’t there for you when you were dying…

 

But this? Just a sick and miserable kid? Dean could do this. Dean had done this before.

 

Jack had finally looked back up when the bright light went away but he was still sitting stiffly with his knees up to his chest. He reminded Dean a little too much of Sammy when he was a kid trying to be brave, trying to seem older and more in control than he was. His eyes were watery and red either from whatever nasty bug he’d picked up or because he was trying not to cry, and Dean really hoped it was the former.

 

The kid obviously felt like garbage.

 

He kept shivering and inhaling shakily obviously having learned how to suppress coughing from the days when his lungs were dissolving. Dean sighed and patted him a little sharply on the back which abruptly stopped the charade as he hacked into his knees.

 

“That’s not going to help anything kid.”

 

Jack just shot him a look of pained betrayal and went back to staring at his feet.

 

“You probably caught something from one of the hunters passing through. Honestly the number of places they’ve been running around and things they’ve been killing, there’s no telling what they dragged…”

 

Dean cut off suddenly freezing in shock when without a word Jack scooted closer and leaned against him. Dean could feel him still shivering even through the coat.

 

“You’re not going to hurl on me or anything right?” Dean chuckled nervously.

 

Jack’s head lifted off his shoulder just long enough to give him a pitiful wounded look (making Dean immediately feel like shit) before he shook his head no and resumed staring determinately at the ground.

 

Convincing.

 

“Ah… well, good…”

 

They just sat in silence for a minute Jack sniffling occasionally before Dean finally said fuck it and put an arm around him rubbing his shoulder gently.

 

“I know it sucks… but you’ll be okay (this time) kiddo...”

 

The kid didn’t break his floor gazing but smiled a little.

 

And then there was much thudding in the hall and Sam and Cas were back, Dean dropped his arm quickly much too Jack’s chagrin.

 

Jack straightened sighing softly as Sam and Cas surrounded him ready to begin their fussing, he just wanted to sleep.

 

He reached for the water in Sam’s hands only for Sam to pull it away as he moaned softly in protest. His throat feel scratchy enough to light a match on it and burned as if someone already had.

 

“I know, I’m sorry you can have it in a minute, it’ll mess up the thermometer reading if you drink something cool,” Sam told him. Jack wilted a little but nodded in that long suffering way he had, dropping his hand.

 

Cas quickly swapped Sam the glass for the (thankfully modern) electric thermometer and after few moments he coaxed Jack into opening his mouth and placing it under his tongue.

 

Jack keep glancing around at them sheepishly as they waited for it to beep, then took it out and stared at it with a furrowed brow after it had.

 

“101.5,” Cas sighed from over his shoulder, “he has a fever…” he mumbled in his worried dad voice.

 

“That’s not too bad,” Sam said for as much Cas’s benefit as Jack’s, before opening a bottle pouring two small red pills into his palm, “and these should help.”

 

He finally offered Jack the water and he took it with shaking hands, though he looked a little intimidated when offered the small red pills.

 

“You swallow them with the water, do you know how to…” Sam awkwardly tries to explain.

 

Jack nods hesitantly, taking them from Sam and then just staring at them in his palm for a moment. He had vague memories of being in his mother’s head space when she took prenatal vitamins, and he’d seen Sam and Dean take pills before before, how hard could it be?

 

He took a sip of the water, threw them back in his mouth as he’d seen many times before, and promptly choked.

 

He spent the next two minutes hacking up a lung as someone thumped him on the back, tears of exertion on his face as he finally got his breath back. The two pills were nowhere to be seen. Sam guided him to sip the now half spilt water glass with shaking hands.

 

“Well… that’s not gonna work…” Dean says lamely.

 

“Oh you think so?” Jack could practically hear Cas roll his eyes.

 

Jack just shivered as someone replaced the now damp trench coat with a real blanket. He didn’t bother looking back to see who, he was too tired to remain upright anymore. All the coughing had shaken his sore brain and body in a way he didn’t like.

 

There were no more shoulders to lean on so he just sighed softly and curled up on his side head on the one cushion Dean allowed in the man cave, determined not to be moved, and trying to ignore his family’s bickering.

 

“Do we have anything else we can give him?” Sam was asking concerned.

 

“Not unless you trust 70 year old cough syrup or want to try a curse, because we have plenty of both of those…” Dean snorted to cover agitation.

 

Sam was defensive, “Well it’s almost midnight by the time we made it into town almost anything but the Gas n’ Sip will be closed I’m just trying to be helpful Dean.”

 

“Look both of you have been drinking just… if you tell me what to get I’ll find somewhere that’s still open and get it…” Cas whisper shouted in annoyance shooting worried glances at the miserable boy.

 

Dean and Sam immediately fell silent, attention back on the problem at hand. That current problem being the feverish kid curled up on the sofa clutching his blanket around his shivering body like a lifeline.

 

“I’ll make a list…” Dean said grabbing one of the napkins Sam had insisted on bringing for the snacks and going to find something to scrawl on it with.

 

“Just… stay here with him…” Cas sighed to Sam straightening the blanket to cover Jack’s legs. “Honestly, you two probably know better than I do how to… deal with this…” He sat on the edge of the couch beside Jack and carefully got his attention by running his fingers through his hair.

 

“Jack…?”

 

It took a moment but the boy finally turned his head enough to give Cas a miserable frustrated look. Cas offered a thin sympathetic smile.

 

“I’m going leave to get something to help you… do you want to head to your room or…”

 

Jack just shook his head and buried his face back into the cushion and Cas closed his eyes feeling out of his element stealing himself before saying, “Then just try to get some rest alright? I’ll be back…” Jack just nodded into his makeshift pillow.

 

Cas gave Dean a pointed, “I know it’s your couch but if you dare make him move…” look, and Dean raised his hands in surrender passing over the napkin and then patted Cas awkwardly on the back as he left the room.

 

“I’ll sleep in here on one of the armchairs if you want to head to bed…” Sam offered Dean as soon as Cas was gone.

 

“You sure?” Dean looked incredulous.

 

“You’ve had more to drink than me,” Sam shrugged.

 

Dean opened his mouth and started gesturing back to the still paused movie in protest before Sam cut him off.

 

“I’m not blaming you, I’m just saying,” Sam placated.

 

“Fine,” Dean agreed, “but you might want to…” he paused to scooted the waste basket from the under the snack table and towards the couch with his foot..

 

Sam looked puzzled for a moment before realization hit him, “you don’t think…”

 

Dean crossed his arms looking over to be sure Jack was out before whispering, “he was acting weird at dinner, he’s refusing to talk and doesn’t want to move, trust me Sammy I know the signs and you’re better safe than sorry.”

 

Sam winced at that and hoped to Chuck he was wrong.


	2. Sam's Poor Poor Sweatshirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has a bad time. Sam earns his dad card the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof sorry this took so long, it ended up much longer than I intended and I ended up writing both of the final chapters at once, at least that means the final chapter should also be up soon.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: vomiting.

Sometimes Sam really wished his brother was as clueless as he looked.

 

Sam had set up camp in the man cave, grabbing another blanket for himself and a real pillow for Jack. He’d turned one of the armchairs at an angle towards the couch so he could keep an eye on the sleeping boy.

 

He’d been planning to keep himself occupied with a book until Cas got back but must have fallen asleep at some point because he was awoken an hour and a half later by harsh coughing from the couch.

 

He sat up quickly book tumbling off his chest, Jack had woken up.

 

Sam yawned and rubbing at his eyes, the couch was cast in shadow away from the low light of the lamp, “Jack?”

 

The boy had pushed himself up on one elbow and when Sam got closer he could see his hair and t-shirt were soaked with sweat and his blanket had been kicked off onto the floor at some point. He had a strange look on his face, confused and upset.

 

Sam knelt down beside him cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder, “Jack? You okay buddy?”

 

Jack breathing was strange, hitched and shallow, and it took a minute for him to respond. He hugged himself with his free arm and swallowed shakily, brows furrowing in pained confusion.

 

His voice was small and hoarse when he finally spoke.

 

“I...I don’t f-feel, I don’t…”

 

His voice cut off as he coughed wetly.

 

A horrifying millisecond too late Sam realized what was wrong.

 

Jack’s entire upper body lurched forward convulsively as he retched and then vomited over the side of the couch.

 

All over the blanket, the cement floor, and down the front of Sam’s sweatshirt.

 

Sam flinched back in shock and revulsion, brain trying to catch up with what just happened.

 

Jack sucked in air and coughed shaking and looking terrified as realization set in. His eyes darted frantically between the floor and Sam’s shirt before filling with tears.

 

Sam quickly shoved down the urge to start swearing and his disgust at the fact someone else’s puke was soaking into his clothes. Freaking out was the last thing the kid needed right now.

 

“S-s-sam I…” Jack stuttered miserably attempting to apologize before his shoulders jerked and he was cut off by another gag.

 

Sam reacted much quicker this time grabbing the wastebasket from where Dean had left it and swiftly shoving it in front of Jack as the boy threw up again.

 

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” Sam said as steady as he could manage, gingerly reaching out his free hand to support Jack’s tense shoulder and keep him from tilting off the couch as he heaved.

 

It took longer the second time for Jack’s stomach to stop turning itself inside out and the boy was left shaking, gasping and coughing trying to regain his breath.

 

There was vomit on his chin and a look of shellshock on his face. A soft pathetic whimper of pain and pure misery he probably wasn’t aware of making escaped him. He looked like the few tears of exertion on his face were about to become a flood.

 

The reality of the situation hit Sam like a ton of bricks. He thought frantically back, he had missed a good chunk of Jack’s early life when he was trapped in the apocalypse universe but… But from what he could remember… Had Jack ever thrown up before?

 

“Hey hey, it’s okay, just breath, you’re alright…” Sam gave him a small sympathetic smile trying to look as sincere and unperturbed as possible, switching from holding Jack’s shoulder to gently rubbing his back.. Jack was scared and in pain, he couldn’t let him see how freaked and grossed out being spray painted with the boy’s stomach contents made him.

 

‘ _Imagine its blood, or ectoplasm or fucking hellhound guts, what the fuck is my life that that makes this any easier…’_ Sam thought keeping his face a pristine picture of grace under fire.

 

“That must have sucked…” Sam winced searching around the room for some way to help. He found Dean hadn’t bothered to grab the napkins off the table when he took the snacks back to the kitchen. He quickly grabbed one and used it to wipe off Jack mouth discarding it on top of the contaminated blanket.

 

The boy didn’t make any move to stop him, he was too shaken up to put up a front. He looked every bit the young kid he was, pale and nauseated, hugging his chest for comfort.

 

“I… I didn’t,” he coughed eyes fixed on Sam’s shirt and filling with remorseful tears, “didn’t mean t-to…”

 

“I know you didn’t bud, it’s… it’s not your fault,” Sam said before gingerly starting to peel off his destroyed sweatshirt, fighting not to screw up his face at the smell and sheer disgustingness of the mess. He thanked whatever cosmic force it was that convinced him not to change into pajamas as he carefully stripped down to his (thankfully dry) undershirt, setting sweatshirt carefully with the napkins on the blanket, suppressing the urge to throw it like an overgrown cockroach.

 

Sam offered Jack what was left of his glass of water from earlier but Jack shied away from it warily, pressing his lips in a thin firm line, clearly still nauseous.

 

“It’s to rinse the bad taste out of your mouth,” Sam explained, “you don’t have to swallow it.”

 

Jack still looked unsure but took the water shakily Sam hovering nearby ready to help if it seemed like he might drop the glass.

 

He swished and spat in the trash can pulling a face and wincing a little.

 

“Tastes disgusting doesn’t it?” Sam took the glass back after a moment and set it aside relieved that Jack seemed to be calming down.

 

“Burns…” Jack mumbled miserable and hoarse, stomach acid did nothing good for his already inflamed throat.

 

Sam searched his brain desperately for what to do or say, he knew he was supposed to do something, he wanted to do something to help.

 

‘ _Dean would be a thousand times better than him at this_ _than you,’_ Sam thought bitterly.

 

His brother would deny it up and down and mutter about ‘chick flick moments’ but if nothing else he had real experience with kids. John was almost never had the time to stick around when one of his kids were ill so Dean had almost always been the one to take care of Sam when he was like Jack was now, young and sick and afraid. Holding back hair when he threw up, making soup in paper bowls in motel microwaves, shoplifting cough syrup.

 

Dean had gotten the short end of the stick Sam had been too young and foolish to know what to do during Dean’s formative years and by the time he was old enough to help Dean had already built up his walls. Acting like he was fine until he couldn’t hide it anymore, stubbornly determined to suffer alone.

 

Sam wasn’t about to put Jack through the same shit they went through as kids, not if he could help it...

 

“What would Dean Winchester do…” Sam muttered to himself.

 

He looked around spotting the thermometer where it had been left behind on the couch arm and seized on it, “let’s just check your temperature, okay?”

 

Jack gave him a pitiful pleading look clearly not wanting to put anything near his mouth.

 

“It’ll be quick,” Sam promised trying not to doubt his decision.

 

Jack hugged himself but nodded red eyes wary. Mechanically following what Cas had done previously he took the thermometer with a shaking hand and placed it under his tongue. He pressed the button and immediately looked woefully at Sam like he wanted to spit it right back out.

 

Sam rubbed his back and did his best to distract him. When it beeped Jack quickly handed it over and Sam sighed. 102.1 the fever had risen. He really hoped Cas would get back with medicine soon.

 

Jack sniffled miserably and curled up on his side hugging his knees looking like he was trying desperately not to cry… or throw up again, Sam wasn’t sure.

 

“Are you alright, does anything else hurt?” Sam asked gently.

 

“I don’t know…” Jack muttered hoarsely, refusing to look him in the eye.

 

“Do you think you’re going to puke again?” he asked cautiously.

 

Jack’s eyes filled with tears, “I don’t kn-know…” he nearly sobbed in misery and frustration.

 

The sound made every paternal instinct in Sam scream and his chest tighten like he wanted to cry right along with the boy.

 

“Hey that’s alright,” Sam tentatively reaching out a hand to rub Jack’s back again, his skin was too warm through his thin t-shirt body shuddering trying to stifle shaky hiccupy little sobs. Like a small child who hadn’t quite learned how yet.

 

Lately, Jack had been fighting so hard to be taken seriously, to seem just as old and mature as he looked if more so. To measure up to his family. Now that disguise was rapidly cracking, like a chick, in an egg, the scared 19-month-old kid he really was was peeking through. The knowledge that he couldn’t keep up the charade on top of every other awful thing going on in his body could not have been making the Jack happy.

 

“Let’s just get you out of here okay?” Sam said, balancing Jack’s fragile emotional state with same gingerness he did his puke stained sweatshirt. The bitter smell of bile from the mess on the floor and trash bin weren’t helping anyone.

 

Jack just sniffled and went quiet again, his body stiffening as he began swallowing shallowly making no move to get up.

 

“ _Warning sign,_ ”

 

He could practically hear Dean in his head, jolting him into action, Sam wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

 

Sam quickly came up beside Jack carefully coaxing him into a seated position and handing him the trash bin. Jack didn’t protest or even say a word as Sam wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped pull him to his feet, he just hugged the bin to his chest in silence and kept his head bowed.

 

Sam carefully led Jack around the soiled blankets and down the hall to one of the smaller bathrooms in the bunker, they’d only gotten halfway there before Jack suddenly started dragging his feet and with a strangled cough began gagging again.

 

Holding onto Jack’s heaving shoulders tighter Sam supported and hurried him forward into the bathroom taking the bin and lowering him carefully down in front of the toilet when he stopped retching long enough to catch his breath.

 

\-----

 

Jack could feel Sam gently rubbing his back as his stomach heaved uselessly for the next few minutes bringing nothing up. He’d thought what had happened earlier had been the most unpleasant thing he’d ever felt but at least actually vomiting had made him feel a little better afterward. When his body finally let him stop he couldn’t keep a soft sob from escaping him. The aftermath of the harsh twisting of his insides ached and made his head throb, he hated it. He was so tired and hot he just wanted the horrible rolling sensation to stop so he could go back to sleep.

 

All he wanted to do was sleep…

 

He’d been having a very unpleasant dream. He was back in apocalypse world being tormented by Zachariah and the archangel Micheal. They’d been wearing strange velvety pink tracksuits throwing popcorn at him and yelling, demanding the secret recipe for Biggerson’s turducken sandwiches. They’d threatened to kill his family if they didn’t get it while he tried desperately to explain he didn’t even know what kind of animal a turducken was and felt inadequate about it.

 

Then the next thing he’d known he’d been pulled back into a reality where everything was hot and muddled and shaky and everything in his body either ached, throbbed or burned.

 

Unable to do anything else he just leaned his overheated forehead again the cool seat of the toilet and sobbed.

 

Sam was talking to him saying soft soothing things but that just made him feel worse and cry harder.

 

“Oh Jack…” Sam sighed sympathetically.

 

“H-hurts...” Jack sobbed hugging himself.

 

He really wanted Cas.

 

_‘Make it go away…’_

 

“I know, puking really sucks…” he heard Sam shuffle around for a moment and then he was handing him a tissue, Jack hadn’t even noticed his nose had started running and took it barely lifting his head wiping harshly at his nose and the spit on his chin.

 

“It’s going to be alright…” Sam said gently, his eyes were sorrowful and worried and he went back to soothingly rubbing Jack’s back from where he sat across from him on the tile floor.

 

Jack was really glad he didn’t try to hug him at that moment, he wasn’t sure if doing so would lead to him ruining another one of Sam’s shirts. Jack felt a surge of shame.

 

He hadn’t known what was happening when he’d woken up, just that everything hurt and he felt extremely uncomfortable, the same kind of uncomfortable he’d get sometimes when they rode in the Impala for hours on end but multiplied by about ten, writhing and twisting inside his gut the rest of his body shaking like he’d been electrocuted.

 

And then he’d...

 

“I… I’m s-so sorry…” he whimpered

 

“Hmm?” Sam brows wrinkled like he’d already forgotten.

 

‘ _Probably pretending to make you feel better…_ ’

 

The thought almost sent Jack into another fit of hysterics but he bit the sobs back, that would only hurt his scorched insides.

 

“I...I didn’t” Jack sniffled, “I’ve never… I didn’t mean to…”

 

Sam paused for a moment before answering him, “I know you didn’t mean to, you’re sick, it’s not something you could control, don’t worry about it.”

 

“Your shirt…” Jack mumbled staring back into the toilet bowl and swallowing back another wave of nausea.

 

Jack heard Sam gave one of his ironic little Sam huffs “It’s just a sweatshirt Jack, and believe me it’s had worse on it. When you’re a hunter there’s a good reason most of your wardrobe is easy to wash...”

 

Sam was being so kind about it like he was a little kid, he should’ve known better, he needed to do better. But just the thought of trying when his whole body was tired and sore like he’d just run a marathon and his insides wanted to crawl up his throat and eject themselves out of his mouth, made him want to break into another fit of sobs. His entire face screwed up, he couldn’t do it.

 

Sam must have noticed that Jack looked like he was about to start crying again because he resumed rubbing his back.

 

“It’ll pass I promise…” Sam was saying quietly, “the first day is always the worst with the flu…”

 

Jack just sniffled as the wave of nausea passed and he gave in to his exhaustion lowering himself to lay the floor. He felt like he’d gone through an industrial washer and swallowed all the soap.

 

The coolness of the tile felt as pleasant as he imagined against his skin, he sighed shakily, it was nice.

 

And Sam made a good pillow.

 

\-----

 

Sam froze in mild shock not daring to move a muscle. Jack was half curled up on the floor, arms wrapped around his chest, sweaty overheated head resting on Sam’s leg.

 

He didn’t want to move him, the kid was already so miserable. He had no idea how he’d managed to calm him down this time he didn’t want to do the wrong thing and trigger another round of tears or dry heaving.

 

He gently ran a hand through Jack’s damp hair, it hurt to see the kid like this, pain and stress visible in every tense muscle of his face, eyes red and swollen with tears and illness. He wished he knew what to do to comfort him.

 

“Cas will be back soon…” Sam told him gently, “he’ll bring some medicine that should help…”

 

Jack curled up tighter, “I don’t want... anything.” he croaked then gave a hacking cough shoulders shaking.

 

Sam felt a little stupid, the kid’s stomach hurt, of course, the prospect of having to consume something wouldn’t make him feel better. So instead they sat in silence Sam continuing to stroke the sniffling boy’s hair and occasionally handing him tissues for his red nose.

 

It seemed like another part of Jack’s body had decided to give him grief.

 

“Do you need anything?” Sam asked after a while, Jack’s face wrinkled in discomfort.

 

“No… I-I don’t…” he paused and breathed heavily.

 

Then the brief veil of calm was broken, Jack’s entire body jerked, then he was scrambling frantically back upright as his stomach decided it was time to turn itself inside out again.

 

The kid gave a strained cough and barely made it back over the toilet bowl before he lost what little was left in his stomach heaving violently.

 

Sam winced at the awful sound, the kid deserved a break.

 

As soon as the wave was over the kid swayed and moaned laying his head back down on the seat, shaking with adrenaline and exhaustion.

 

“I hate this…” Jack groaned in frustration, knocking his head against the seat.

 

“Hey don’t do that…” Sam warned with no real bite in his words, he pushed himself up off the floor and grabbing a rag to wet in the sink.

 

“I know you hate it,” Sam sighed, “everybody does.”

 

Jack hugged his stomach tightly as if he could strangle the organ into submission.

 

He didn’t even protest or glare at Sam when he turned his face gently to wipe the bile from his mouth and chin. He just seemed so weary and done at this point.

 

“Shit…” Sam muttered, unfortunately, this time Jack’s clothing hadn’t been completely spared, a thin trail of vomit had somehow made it down onto his shirt.

 

Sam sighed and gently brushed back Jack’s bangs, “I’m going to get you something clean to wear okay?”

 

Jack just sniffled again and didn’t respond.

 

Sam felt terrible leaving him alone but no wet rag or amount of coddling would get the poor kid out of his sweaty soiled clothes and replace the fluids he’d been losing so he hurried off to retrieve water and clean pajamas for Jack.

 

That at least he could do to make the kid feel a little better.

 

He quickly stopped by room 22 to grab clothes from Jack’s things and was just making his way to the kitchen for the water when he heard the familiar creaking of the bunker door.

 

“Oh thank god…” Sam muttered, hurrying to meet Cas.

 

“You were gone a long time…” Sam said in relief waiting at the bottom of the spiral staircase, “it’s been over two hours.”

 

Cas grimaced remorsefully handing over one of two bulging plastic “thank you” bags and immediately starting to walk back towards the man cave, Sam trailing behind.

 

“I’m sorry, I had to drive to the next town over to find an open pharmacy, nothing but the gas station is open in Lebanon this time of night,” Cas apologized, pausing for a moment to blink at Sam in confusion.

 

“Weren’t you wearing something different earlier?”

 

Sam decided not to dignify that with an answer, “Did you find everything okay?”

 

Cas smiled a little proud of himself “there was a nice older woman named Beverly working the night shift at the 24 hour pharmacy, she assisted me in finding everything I needed. She has three children and six grandchildren so she was very knowledgeable.” Worry took back over his face.

 

“How’s Jack, is he alright, is he still asleep?”

 

Sam looked up disappointed from where he was poring over the contents of the bag, it contained about twenty varieties of children’s fever reducer, cough syrup, and Nyquil but nothing that would help soothe an upset stomach.

 

“No um, he’s…” Sam winced, “he’s in the bathroom, he’s been throwing up on and off for the last half hour.”

 

Cas’s face dropped and he opened his mouth to say something looking panicked.

 

“He’s… okay.” Sam cut in quickly, “he’s not feeling well or having any fun but… nothing not normal for the flu…”

 

Cas continued to look frazzled hurrying back towards the bathroom. Sam following closely with his bag.

 

“But I… I didn’t get anything for… Dean’s list didn’t say anything about…” Cas breathed anxiously eyebrows furrowing.

 

The telltale sound of strangled gagging from the open bathroom door up ahead cut off Cas’s fearful rambling, he froze.

 

“Shit…”

 

Sam hurried past him back into the bathroom and to Jack’s side. The kid was throwing up again only bringing up bile and whimpering softly between heaves.

 

“It’s okay, you’re okay, just breathe through it…” Sam knelt down knee creaking and resumed gently rubbing Jack’s back.

 

Cas stood like a statue wide-eyed in the bathroom doorway looking almost as lost and woebegone as Jack.

 

When the bout of vomiting passed Jack continued to sob leaning exhausted against Sam.

 

Sam didn’t know what to do other than hug the shaking boy around the shoulders, the pajamas, and bag of medicine dropped forgotten by the door.

 

“Hey… you’re alright, it’s going to be okay.”

 

Sam told him what he didn’t feel himself. Even knowing every word of what he said was true, there was something about seeing their kid suffering that made his heart beat about a mile a minute.

 

He glanced up at Cas who looked just as distressed as he felt. He’d unfrozen but was shifting subtly from foot to foot, wringing his hands, clearly desperate to do something to help his son.

 

“Get any water?” Sam mouthed at him.

 

Cas jerked into action digging around in the bag he was carrying and pulling out a bottle.

 

Sam took it from him with a thankful smile and gestured at the rag on the sink with his head

 

Cas nodded and quickly handed it over.

 

Sam gave him another nod in thanks and turned his attention back to the sick kid. He cracked open the water bottle and offered it to Jack who took it without a word.

 

He sipped at the water bottle with shaky hands and spit just like Sam had him do before. Then he just sat there sniffling, shivering, staring at the bottle in his hands, obviously trying to get a hold of his tears.

 

“Jack?” Cas called warily from the door. One of his hands were clutching at the door frame, like he was holding himself back for some reason.

 

“Are you… alright?” Cas asked lamely.

 

Jack’s eyes watered and he mumbled hoarsely not looking up, “N-no.. not really…”

 

Sam gently used the rag to try to clean up his face again and he flushed away the evidence of Jack being sick.

 

Sam got Cas to hand him the pajamas offering Jack a little privacy to change. He’d seen Jack completely naked shortly after he was first born, (and after the first time he showered before he'd complete grasped most people's level of discomfort with nudity) but something about the vulnerability and complete loss of control of being sick made him want to give the boy as much personal agency as he possibly could.

 

“I… I need to talk to Sam outside for a minute alright?” Cas said, voice shaking slightly.

 

Jack coughed and nodded tiredly, eyes fever bright and exhausted as he gave his father the tiniest of smiles.

 

One reassuring smile back and Sam was closing the door behind him and facing Cas with a sigh.

 

“He looks terrible…” was the first thing out of Cas’s mouth.

 

“Yeah…” was all Sam could say at first, he winced sympathetically “he’s... really going through it, and his fever is up.”

 

Jack had seemed to have somehow managed to contract “that” flu, the really nasty kind that if you’re lucky you only get once or twice in your life. The kind that knocks you flat on your ass, completely wipes you out, and leaves you wondering where your week had gone when you finally crawl out from under it.

 

Sam seriously considered waking Dean up but somehow dragging his half-drunk brother awake to deal with a puking kid did not seem like a recipe for success.

 

Also, Dean had refused to get a flu shot this year and Sam didn’t want to have to take care of his sorry ass if he caught the virus from Jack for the sole reason he felt like being lazy. The man had been stabbed and willingly sliced open his palm more times than Sam could count, why he thought Sam would believe him when he said he drew the line at needles was beyond him.

 

“ _Maybe it would serve him right…_ ”

 

“Well… I brought something for the fever and water that should help something, right?” Cas said hopefully.

 

Sam messed with his hair and yawned trying to think, “I don’t know, I think so, but that only works if he can keep it down.”

 

Cas body seemed to droop a little, “Do you… do you think that’s unlikely?”

 

"I can try but… if that doesn't work I honestly don't know what else we have in the bunker that can help him,” Sam said unsure.

 

Cas paused for a moment sending a sad wistful look back towards the closed bathroom door.

 

“I know I’m probably overreacting, I don’t have experience with this kind of illness but I…” Cas sighed, “I don’t want him getting any worse.”

 

Sam tried to quell the terrible fears his own mind came up with the moment he’d first realized Jack wasn’t feeling well before speaking.

 

_It had conjured up images of oxygen masks and the terrible sound of harsh labored wheezing. Red blood making the air smell like iron..._

 

“Cas, the last time Jack was sick… he died, I think you have more right than anyone to be protective.”

 

Sam couldn’t help giving into his own nagging anxiety at the end, “and besides… the flu can be nasty. If he gets too dehydrated he could end up having to get an iv from the hospital, after we explain why he’s even still alive, and that’s the last thing he needs.”

 

Cas nodded looking grim, “I could go back out to the pharmacy if you know what could help him?”

 

“No Cas, it’s late let me this time,” Sam tried to protest.

 

“I don’t need rest Sam, and you actually have experience with human illnesses like this one. I need you to at least try to get his fever down.” Cas huffed a little ruefully. “If I was to try, I’d probably just make him worse…”

 

“Cas…” Sam didn’t get his chance to refute that before the bathroom door opened and Jack peeked out leaning shivering and unsteady against the door frame.

 

“Dad?” Jack said pitifully offering his dirty clothes with shaking hands, “I...I don’t know what to do with these…”

 

“I’ll take care of it…” Cas stepped around Sam to take the clothes and feel the side of Jack’s face with a free hand, frowning, “I need to go back out, I’m going to get something for your stomach, okay?”

 

Sam saw the light that had come back into Jack’s face when he saw Cas quickly fade away, he looked down and nodded.

 

Cas tried to give him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be right back, I promise…”

 

Jack offered Cas the smallest of pained smiles back and pulled away weaving over to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

 

Tearing his eyes away from Jack Cas looked back at Sam's eyes pleading, “please…”

 

“Cas…” Sam swallowed his confusion, normally he’d be all over the strange angel’s inexplicable feelings of inadequacy but that wasn’t what mattered right now.

 

The look on Jack’s face was painfully familiar. It reminded him of when he was younger, and his dad was out on hunting trips, times like this when Dean was the one staying up all night with him. Dean was family, he loved his brother, and in most ways Dean even as a kid had somehow been a better parent than John had ever been. But...

 

_He wants you Cas, he wants his father._

 

“Alright fine, but if you were going to put those clothes in the wash there’s some other stuff back in the tv room that you should grab before you go.” Sam patted him on the shoulder and headed back into the bathroom with Jack.

 

Cas gave them one last wounded look before walking away to deal with the untold horrors of the Man Cave.

 

Jack had shifted from the side of the tub back onto the floor and just sat quietly curled hugging his knees to his chest and staring at the floor.

 

He was shivering when Sam touched his shoulder.

 

“Do you want me to get one of your hoodies?” Sam asked softly.

 

Jack just shook his head not looking up.

 

“Is your stomach feeling any better?” Sam highly doubted there was anything left for Jack to sick up at this point.

 

Jack shrugged and stifled a cough in his knees.

 

“Do you want to go lay down in your bed?”

 

Jack shook his head a little more vehemently.

 

Sam sighed, Jack was obviously not in the mood to talk.

 

“Do you think you could drink a little water for me?”

 

Jack finally lifted his head up to give him a mildly suspicious look.

 

Sam didn’t blame him, he did his best to explain “Cas bought some medicine that should help your the fever at least. If the water stays down I can give you some, then maybe you can get some sleep…”

 

The grumpy mask slipped and a little hope re-entered Jack’s drained face. As if the red eyes and developing dark circles hadn’t been enough to tell Sam the kid was absolutely exhausted.

 

“Okay…” Jack said softly all the resistance going out of him.

 

Sam grabbed a fresh non-puke touched bottle of water from the bag by the door opening it and lowering himself to the floor beside Jack.

 

“Just sip it, slowly, okay?” he instructed handing it over..

 

Jack took it tentatively and carefully took the smallest of sips if nothing else it helped with the lingering bitter taste of sick he couldn’t seem to get out of his mouth and soothed his raw inflamed throat.

 

Sam busied himself with his phone texting Cas the requested list of everything he knew that was supposed to help when someone was puking. Every remedy he’d learned from Dean, Bobby, Dad, and the internet.

 

“What’s your favorite Gatorade flavor, Jack?”

 

Jack eyed him sheepishly, “The blue…” he mumbled taking another tiny sip of water.

 

“Blue’s the best…” Sam smiled trying to lighten his mood.

 

Jack just shrugged noncommittally setting aside the bottle long enough to blow his nose and wince at the pain in his head the action caused.

 

The fever had managed to melt away every last bit of Jack’s usual cheerful exuberance, leaving behind the sore shell of a boy that Sam saw before him. He didn’t know how Cas could stand knowing he could take all that pain away and yet being unable to for the kid’s own good. Maybe that was why he was being so standoffish...

 

“How much do I have to drink of this?” Jack asked after a minute.

 

He’d managed to drain about a third of the bottle.

 

“That’s probably okay…” Sam reassured Jack capping it for him and setting it aside.

 

Jack just sighed leaning his head back against his knees and shivering.

 

Sam instantly worried he’d done the wrong thing.

 

“You okay?”

 

“No…” Jack sniffled softly, hugging himself tighter eyes watering. “I… I don’t like being human anymore,” he rubbed the tears from his eyes angrily.

 

Sam hugged him gently around the shoulders pulling his hands away, “yeah, it sucks sometimes, but… it could be worse.”

 

Jack scowled at him shuddering, “I’d r-rather be dying again…” he mumbled teeth chattering unhappily.

 

Sam felt his chest jerk at that pronouncement but quickly shook away the feeling with a miffed huff. He knew Jack would never say something like that if he wasn’t feverish and not thinking straight.

 

He grabbed a towel off the rack, even if Jack was being too stubborn to ask for his hoodie or a blanket he wasn’t going to let him sit on the cold tile floor of the bathroom shivering through the throws of chills from a 102-degree fever with no form of comfort.

 

“No, you don’t…” Sam said airily laying the towel over Jack who pulled it around himself on instinct. “You just feel like that right now.”

 

“D-don’t tell me how I’m feeling,” Jack said with all the vehemence of an angry kitten sending himself into a fit of coughing.

 

Jack sniffled harshly, and ripped another tissue from the box to blow his nose, “y-you’re just staring at me, waiting to see if I… if I puke again.”

 

_‘Great job Sam, that really helped…’_

 

He needed a distraction and he needed one fast, trying to play to Jack’s sensible nature wasn’t going to work, the kid was too feverish and lost in his own misery for any kind of verbal or emotional filter.

 

“Alright… I’m sorry…” Sam said placatingly lifting his hands.

 

All the prickly anger almost immediately went out of Jack.

 

“I’m sorry…” Jack sobbed into his knees burying his hands in his hair, “I just don’t… I can’t… why is this e-even happening?” he said bitterly, “I-I’m freezing.”

 

“It’s the fever…” Sam tried to explain, seizing on the subject, “you have a virus, viruses are like... tiny biological robots, they take over your cells and makes them reproduce the virus itself so it can spread. Your body’s immune system then produces something called pyrogens which make your brain think your body should be hotter than it’s normally supposed to be to slow them down and...

 

Jack lifted his head to give Sam a look of pure horror and confusion.

 

“What?”

 

_Now is not the time to explain biology to a confused heat addled two-year-old Sam, you idiot, you utter and complete imbecile..._

 

“Bodies are… weird,” Sam finishes lamely, “it’s normal when you have a fever…”

 

Jack still looked worried but nodded and rested his chin back on his knees.

 

_Great Sam, now he probably thinks robots are taking over his brain…_

 

“Weird… like you and Dean…” Jack mumbled.

 

“Huh?” Sam was taken completely off guard. “What do you mean?”

 

The red spots of fever blush on Jack’s cheeks seemed to brighten a little, “You’re younger but Dean’s… Dean’s taller. I’ve never… really understood, but didn’t want to ask why and…”

 

Sam blinked, he had no idea how Jack had jumped to this subject.

 

Jack hid his face in his knees, “...it sounds stupid.”

 

_Well, at least it’s not brain robots._

 

“Oh…” Is all Sam can say to that.

 

Jack scowled at him a sheepishly, “you’re giving me the ‘Jack said something silly again’ look, you think it’s st-stupid.” he coughed harshly into his arm and hid his face again.

 

“That’s not a stupid question,” Sam reassured him, “stupid is people who laugh at you for trying to learn…”

 

Jack was quiet for a moment before peeking up at him expectantly.

 

“Oh right right,” Sam huffed a laugh, “It’s uh… just how genetics work, the blueprint of how your body works is inside you in every cell. Everyone has a set height they can grow to and they stop growing in their late teens or early twenties.”

 

Disappointment passed over Jack’s face at that, “So… my body won’t grow much taller then?”

 

At least Jack seemed distracted from the complete mess his body _currently_ was, Sam tried to keep it that way.

 

“Well, I mean… it might be a little different because you’re a Nephilim,” Sam shrugged, “and besides some people are late bloomers, I was actually a lot shorter than Dean until the summer before my senior year of high school.”

 

He could feel Jack’s red-rimmed eyes watching him curiously, “Oh…?”

 

“Yeah I just shot right up,” Sam chuckled at the memory, “I… I ended up spending most of that summer at Bobby’s, I’d missed a lot of school that year and I was determined to finish everything on time…”

 

He’d remembered arguing with his dad about it, he’d rank that fight as maybe only the fourth… or fifth worst they’d had. His dad still didn’t believe him completely about “the whole overdramatic going to college threat” at that point. But Jack didn’t need to know about that. Sam cleared his throat.

 

“Anyway, Dean and Dad spent a month and a half helping some hunter’s up in Canada with a vampire nest, thing, and I stayed behind, helping Bobby between class assignments.” A grin spread across Sam’s face.

 

“I remember when they came back Dean just kept… eyeing me funny, like… not saying anything but just squinting at me like I’d grown a third head. He kept peeking around corners, even waiting outside the bathroom door one time. I thought, he either needed glasses or he’d been possessed by something.”

 

That earned him a little congested snort of laughter from Jack.

 

It was a welcomed sound. Sam smiled too. “I remember I kept freaking out thinking, ‘I gotta tell dad, what if something happened on the hunt I didn’t know about. But then dad just grabbed us both and made us stand back to back and he just said,” Sam dropped his tone to mimic John, “yep Sam’s taller, quit sulking Dean’.”

 

Jack was smiling softly at him now, his voice slurring slightly with tiredness “that’s a nice story.”

 

Sam smiled back, “yeah…” It had been a mess, but that summer was the last time they’d been a family.

 

Shaking away the thought Sam pushed himself to his feet. “Well I think we’ve waited long enough, is your stomach still okay?”

 

The boy shrugged and cleared his throat, “a-about the same…”

 

Sam smiled sympathetically and started digging through the bags Cas had brought, reading the backs of various bottles. Approximately five medicine cups worth of thick viscous grape-flavored children’s ibuprofen didn’t sound like a bright idea to force on Jack at the moment so he settled on Nyquil.

 

He’d just started to pour out the dose when he heard shuffling from across the room.

 

“S-sam I don’t think I… I want too…”

 

In the time it took Sam to look back up Jack was back over the toilet heaving up all the water he’d managed to get down.

 

Sam winced and sighed thumping the Nyquil bottle back down on the bathroom sink before going to comfort him.

 

It looked like they were in for a long night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas at the 24-hour pharmacy: *picks up a bottle of Children's Tylenol and Asprin based flu remedy.*
> 
> Beverly the night clerk: *concerned* "How old is your son?"
> 
> Cas: "He's two... er t-twenty... twenty-two." 
> 
> Beverly: "..."
> 
> \----
> 
> The third and final chapter focuses on Cas and Jack, and should be up soon as all it's drafting is done.


	3. Press F for Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One exhausted emotional nephilim + one clueless angel parent = celestial tug of war.

 

The sky was just beginning to lighten at half-past 4 in the morning when Cas made it back to the bunker.

 

Upon returning to the 24-hour pharmacy the clerk Beverly had taken one look at his face and the six-pack of ginger ale he'd picked up, said “oh honey…” in a sympathetic knowing voice and immediately started assisting him.

 

Thankfully she’d been able to help him find everything he needed except blue Gatorade, that he had to drive out even farther to get, to a 24 hour superstore; there he’d seen a strange man wearing everything but the head of a grubby beaver mascot and what he could have sworn was Grecian Lamia in human form.

 

He tried not to think about the experience too deeply and vowed to never return, the whole place felt like a weird kind of purgatory.

 

He closed the door gingerly behind him when he entered the bunker walking quietly down the stairs so as not to make too much noise with the crinkling of bags. Sound had a way of traveling in the massive underground structure.

 

Unfortunately, when he got closer to the dormitory area of the bunker he was sad to see the lights in the small bathroom still on, the tinny sound of canned laughter coming from the other side of the cracked door.

 

“Sam?” he called carefully.

 

He heard shuffling and muttering - presumably to Jack - before the door opened to reveal a slightly haggard looking Sam.

 

“Hey C-cas...” he said around a yawn.

 

Cas peered around him to see Jack curled up on the bathroom floor a blanket pulled over his body and his head resting on a makeshift pillow made up of rolled up bath towels. He was watching some unknown sitcom with his phone propped up against the base of the toilet.

 

The room looked clean again, but the bitter smell of bile still hung in the air and stung his nose.

 

Jack barely looked up to mumble a quiet, “hey…” when Cas arrived.

 

“Are you... alright Jack?” Cas asked apprehensively, carefully kneeling down to feel the boy’s sweaty forehead, the sick flame still burning away. Cas wished for once he wasn’t an angel so he couldn’t feel exactly how the virus was having a field day with his son’s weakened human form.

 

“The floor is cold and nice…” Jack mumbled.

 

“...Ah,” was all Cas could think to say.

 

“Um… Sam, a word,” Cas was careful not to let his worry seep into his tone as he pushed himself back up to his feet. 

 

Sam nodded yawning again, “w- we’ll be right back Jack…” Jack gave a soft non-committal hum in response as his dads ducked outside, beyond caring that they weren’t including him in their conversation again.

 

“How did things go?” Castiel got straight to business, “was he able to take the medicine or anything? He still seems really feverish.”

 

Sam sighed looking a little guilty. "Things… didn’t go, his fever is still 102. He drank some of the water when I asked him to but… I think I made him try too soon or something because it didn’t stay down. After that I couldn’t get him to drink or take anything, he’s too nervous about throwing up again.”

 

In his time as a human being, Castiel had been lucky enough to not suffer any major form of gastric distress, but he knew vomiting was extraordinarily unpleasant. 

 

“Is he still…”

 

“No,” Sam said quickly, “At least, not for the last hour or so, he’s been alright on that front.”

 

Cas was relieved for that at least, he asked his next burning question, “Why is he… _nesting_ on the bathroom floor?”

 

“Couldn’t get him to go to bed…” Sam’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed his face tiredly, “I tried, but again I think he’s scared of getting sick because he refuses to move more than five feet from the toilet. And I think he’s completely lost faith in me after the um… water incident.”

 

Castiel felt terrible, he should have been there helping Sam not running around the state and only coming back to deal with the aftermath, “Sam I’m really sorry…”

 

Sam raised a hand to silence him before he could finish, “Cas… I really don’t mind helping, we all love Jack, I’m fine with it, but whatever it is going on with you right now, but I don’t appreciate being used as a shield.”

 

Cas opened his mouth to apologize and defend himself but Sam just shushed him again.

 

“Cas, I don’t care why… Jack needs you right now not me.”

 

“I…” Cas tried to explain that he didn’t even know what that meant, that the one thing he knew how to do to help Jack was the one thing that would make things worse in the long run… but Sam cut him off yet again. 

 

_Four thirty was too early for excuses._

 

“Look Cas, just talk to Jack alright? Just give him the medicine and get him to lay down, you’re probably the only person he’ll respond to right now, he’s done listening to me.” Sam put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “it’s not rocket science…” 

 

“Sam, I don’t know how to…” Cas panicked, before dropping his voice to a whisper, “I don’t have any experience with sick children. The last time I anything to do with any form of influenza it was in the form of a plague.”

 

Sam just blinked at him when he finished his tirade eyes looking slightly glazed, he was too tired to come up with an actual argument for that.

 

“Pepto, then fluids, then Nyquil, then sleep… if all else fails just get him to sleep and we can try the rest in the morning,” Sam patted his shoulder. “At least… that’s what I read online…” he paused looking a little sheepish. “Honestly beside personal experience, I’m not much more qualified to deal with this than you are. Wake me back up if you need anything else, but I think you’ll do just… fine…”

 

Flashing one last _somewhat_ reassuring but mainly tired smile Sam walked past him to his room and Castiel was alone in the bathroom doorway.

 

He gathered himself before carefully pushing the door open, Jack hadn’t moved an inch from his nest of blankets and towels.

 

Cas knelt down gingerly beside him, on closer inspection he looked even worse, pale and sweaty his eyes fixed on the phone but not seeming to take anything in, just trying to distract himself.

 

“Jack?” Cas asked for the third time that night, “are you feeling okay?”

 

“Peachy…” Jack mumbled not looking up.

 

“I brought um… ‘Pepto’…” Cas tried to sound reassuring, pulling the bottle out of the bag he brought.

 

Jack gave him a perturbed look pulling the blanket tighter around himself, “what’s that?” 

 

“It’s supposed to help your stomach…” Cas explains.

 

“It looks like melted bubblegum…” Jack grumbled in suspicion coughing into his arm before turning back to the show, “I’m okay…”

 

Cas sighed steeling himself, this approach was not working at all. Time to bring his skills in war strategy to the bathroom. 

 

He reached over Jack and paused the video.

 

Jack scowled at him almost immediately.

 

“I know you’re tired, and I know you’re not feeling well, but I need you to listen to me…” Cas’s voice was gentle yet firm.

 

Jack said nothing but didn’t look away again.

 

“I’m really, really sorry about what happened earlier with Sam, but you know you can’t just stay lying on the bathroom floor indefinitely. All I want to do is help you feel a little better so you can get some rest, and I believe this is the best way to do that…” Cas told him seriously. 

 

Jack’s “hard” disapproving look softened a little, tense shoulders dropping.

 

“This will help…” Cas insisted showing him the bottle of medicine up close.

 

 Jack gave Cas his best hopeful puppy dog look, the effect amplified tenfold by tearful red eyes, “Are… are you sure?”

 

Cas nodded, “Dean has sworn by it religiously ever since he turned thirty-five, I’m actually shocked we didn’t have any still in the bunker.”

 

The smallest of smiles crossed Jack’s face at that, “Okay…”

 

Reaching out a hand Cas gently helped him into a seated position, Jack wincing from the change of orientation.

 

“Are you alright?” Cas asked concerned.

 

Jack sighed curling up rubbing his throbbing forehead into his knees, “M-my head hurts, my stomach hurts, everything… just hurts,” his red swollen eyes watered with frustrated tears.

 

“I’m sorry…” Cas’s chest hurt in sympathy. It took all his will power to keep himself from just healing him right then and there. Instead, he busied himself with the bottle of medicine.

 

He carefully measured and offered Jack the little cup of pink goo, “this is supposed to help at least one of those things.”

 

“So was the water…” Jack remarked pressing his lips together, anxiousness making him want to stall the inevitable.

 

“Sam took a risk to try and do what he thought was best for you, ” Cas said firmly not letting him, “it just didn’t work out, that’s not anyone’s fault and it’s not right to blame him for that, I think you know that.”

 

Cas offered the little cup again.

 

Jack took it tentatively eyeing the neon fluid with distrust looking nervously to Cas.

 

Cas nodded reassuringly, and Jack finally tilted it back the cup making a face at its strange texture.

 

“Tastes like melted bubblegum…” Jack mumbled nose wrinkling.

 

“And that’s a bad thing?”

 

“Right now it is…” Jack muttered glumly starting to shiver again. Cas moved to wrap the blanket from Jack’s “nest” around his shoulders.

 

Cas sighed, “How about we get you back to your own bed, it’s much more comfortable and... the floor is freezing.”

 

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed apprehensively, “Wh-what if I…”

 

Cas paused remembering what Sam had said about Jack being scared of vomiting and went to pick up the extraneous trash can by the sink. Sam had obviously washed it out at some point while he was gone.

 

“Then… we have this… If you need to be sick again…”

 

Jack still seemed unsure looking away and blushing embarrassed. “It didn’t help earlier… I...”

 

“You…?”

 

Jack finally looked up looking tearful and guilty, “I puked on Sam…”

 

Cas’s mouth twitched, “I know Jack.”

 

“I didn’t mean to…” Jack huffed leaning tired and resigned against the tub, pulling the blanket tighter, “I didn’t know... until it happened.”

 

“Sam knows you didn’t mean it,” Cas tries to comfort him, “he’s been sick before, I’m sure he understands.” 

 

“Should’ve known…” Jack muttered mortified.

 

“How Jack?” Cas asked flatly, the boy had a grand total of 19 months of life experience, and even less than that in a fully human body, it made no sense. “I’ve never vomited before. If I was in your place I might not have been able to notice in time, and I am much, much older than you… or Sam. What makes you so different?”

 

Jack looked sheepish, “movies…”

 

“Movies?” Cas raised an eyebrow.

 

Jack’s face turned redder and he hid his face in his knees again coughing and sniffling softly, “sorry…”

 

Tentative and a little nonplussed as to what had set off the tears or what to do to comfort him Cas gently laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder, feeling the fever through his t-shirt, a different shirt than earlier but already damp with sweat, his entire body shivering in spite of the sweltering heat.

 

Jack's shirt looked eerily like the one he’d died in, Cas wished they’d burned it.

 

He carefully reached out an exploratory tendril of grace.

 

He could literally feel the illness coursing through the boy, count the individual virus cells leaching and manipulating Jack’s own. Every harsh red inflammatory response of his immune system fighting and attempting to contain it. It looked like war and he knew it felt like hell.

 

The boy coughed harshly batting around for a tissue to blow his pink nose before returning his face to his knees with a soft groan. 

 

_Cas could reach out and take away that pain and discomfort in an instant…_

 

The urge was so strong he had to pull away his hand for a moment and take a deep cleansing breath, completely withdrawing his grace before returning it to Jack’s shoulder.  

 

“Let’s just get you to bed okay?” Cas said, trying not to let his voice shake. 

 

Compared to the unfettered chaos Jack’s body had been in just a few weeks prior this was nothing.

 

“ _Jack’s body is doing exactly what it was supposed to,_ ” Cas told himself.  

 

But the feeling of helplessness, of not being able to do anything, was unnerving him, quaking him to the core even as he held his vessel’s hand and voice still. Fear and worry far surpassing what the situation required.

 

If Cas seemed panicked and unsure Jack would pick up on it and then he would never get him off the floor.

 

Even without his grace, Cas could feel Jack’s heartbeat, unlike last time steady and strong, he tried to focus on that.

 

_He’s alive, he’ll be okay…_

 

Cas steeled himself to smile reassuringly for Jack, “I know you feel horrible, but your bed has to be better than this… do you want me to help you up…?”

 

Jack sniffled again not looking up and then just shrugged.

 

Cas was beginning to feel like he'd have to peel Jack off the bathroom floor digit by digit So he started at the edges.

 

"I know the light hurts your head… your bedroom will be dimmer…" Cas appealed.

 

The boy’s head tilted for a moment seemingly mulling the statement over before shrugging again.

 

A soft sigh escaped Cas and he rubbed at his own forehead before speaking again, “Is the ‘Pepto’ helping at all?”

 

Jack finally picked up his head wincing blearily in the bathroom lights, - _proving Cas’s earlier statement_ \- “a little,” he muttered hoarsely.

 

“So I take it then you don’t feel like you’ll be sick if you get up right now?”

 

Jack looked sheepish, he’d been tricked.

 

_Congrats on bamboozling a not even two-year-old Castiel…_

 

“Jack if you don’t feel like you’re going to vomit you really need to go to bed,” Cas tried a little exasperated.

 

Jack bit his lip studying the floor tile and blinking back tears, “I-I don’t want to move… I’m tired.”

 

“Well the sooner you move the sooner you can sleep in your own bed,” Cas tried reasoning again.

 

Jack was probably even more frustrated than he was judging by the tone of his voice when he spoke, voice cracking.

 

“I’m so tired, my bones, my brain, everything. If… I move it might set something off ag-…” he paused to cough into the blanket, drooping weary, “I’m not...” 

 

Jack closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to focus a fever-addled brain before finishing softly, “Why can’t I stay here?”

 

Cas’s resolve was shaken, like his last burnt flight feather on his bony concept of a wing. The boy wasn’t trying to be difficult, he was just absolutely exhausted.

 

“It’s cold and bright, towels make poor pillows, the floor will just make your body hurt more if you sleep on it. Believe me…” memories of Cas’s own experiences when he lost his grace and had nowhere to go rose to the surface, “I know what it’s like to sleep on the ground as a human, even when you’re not ill it’s terrible.”

 

Jack looked away for a moment and Cas thought he hadn’t gotten through, but then he finally started to try and push himself up out of his nest with shaking hands, blanket sliding off his shoulders to the floor.

 

Cas quickly offered him a hand and the boy took it gratefully. He swayed a little and had to support himself against the sink once he was on his feet. Dizzy and head throbbing from the sudden movement.

 

He bodily shivered and Cas quickly grabbed the blanket from the floor draping it back over his shoulders.

 

“Thanks…” Jack mumbled softly.

 

Cas’s smile didn’t quite mask the sadness in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders, “let's get you to bed okay?”

 

He nodded against Cas’s shoulder and with a load of plastic thank you bags in Cas’s free hand, and the cleaned bin in Jack’s they made their way out of the bathroom and to Jack’s room.

 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it Jack had been too tired and distracted to make his bed that morning, the covers were already pulled back when they entered the room. Jack sat heavily on the edge of the bed, Cas reached over to flick on the thankfully dim lamp.

 

Jack sat slouching and blinking blearily as Cas sorted through the bags of medicine and various fluids on the bed’s side table.

 

“I brought… water, ginger ale, something called Pedialyte, and blue flavored Gatorade,” Cas looked up expectantly.

 

Jack just pulled a face. “Do I have to have any of them…?”

 

“It would help you feel a little better…” Cas explained gently, “and it will make the fever medicine less likely to bother your stomach.”

 

Jack seemed to recoil a little at the phrase “less likely.”

 

“I don’t care, I just want to sleep…” Jack said eyes watering pitifully. His stomach felt a lot less angry after the gross pink medicine, the nausea down to a dull discomfort but everything still hurt. His joints felt bruised, his head throbbed and he couldn’t seem to get warm. He just wanted to curl up in a ball under the covers and be still in his misery till his body let him drift off in spite of the aching.

 

It seemed like honesty was the best policy so far so Cas tried it again, “You’ve been vomiting and sweating you’re probably already dehydrated. According to Sam if you get too dehydrated you’d have to go to the hospital and get iv fluids.”

 

Jack’s eyes widened, “y-you’re lying...”

 

“The flu is nothing to joke about Jack, tens of thousands of people die from it every year,” Cas said seriously.

 

A look of horror crossed Jack’s face and his lip quivered.

 

_Oh no…_

 

Cas quickly backpedaled.“But not you, that’s only a small percentage of people who fall ill, usually people with weakened bodies like the elderly and the chronically ill, you’re young and healthy… now.” 

 

Jack’s eyes were still filling with tears.

 

Cas cautiously reached out a hand before changing his mind and just pulling him into a hug, “Jack if you ever got anywhere close to that ill I would heal you, this isn’t like before, I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay?"

 

 Jack clung to his father quivering, he sniffled and nodded into the shoulder of his trenchcoat.

 

“Please drink something okay?” Cas asked again mildly exasperated from worry, “I’m not doing any of this to cause you pain…”

 

Jack nodded again, “just...water…” he mumbled into the coat.

 

Cas pulled back after a minute, Jack not meeting his eyes as he touched the skin of his tear-stained cheek. It was uncomfortably warm and Cas wasn’t even the one wearing it.

 

He cracked open a bottle of water and handed it to Jack concerned, “drink that slowly, I need to get something.” 

 

Jack just sniffled and nodded holding the bottle with two shaking hands taking small cautious sips.

 

Cas hurried back to the bathroom to grab the thermometer off the sink and in a streak of inspiration dampened a rag under the faucet.

 

When he returned Jack had shifted down onto his side resting against the headboard of his bed and his pillow, still sipping the lukewarm bottled water. After hours of on and off vomiting it was doing very little for his esophagus, but he was used to the burning by now. 

 

Jack squinted at the rag in Cas’s hand eyes bright with fever and mildly curious, “is that… for my head… like in the movies?” he mumbled hoarsely

 

“Yes…” Cas mouth twitched amused, “just like the movies.” He carefully rolled up the rag, “I don’t think it actually does very much but it should be soothing…”

 

Jack blinked at him and then gave the tiniest of hopeful smiles, “th-thank you…” he mumbled coughing harshly before quickly returning to sipping his water. The chills had seemed to wane but sweat had broken back out over his forehead.

 

“It’s too hot in here…” Jack huffed resisting the wild frustrated urge to toss the water bottle across the room mainly out of exhaustion.

 

“It’s the same temperature as everywhere else in the bunker, that’s just the fever…” Cas reassured him laying the cool rag carefully over his forehead.

 

Jack sighed shakily, the damp coolness was the first truly pleasant thing he’d felt in a day and a half.

 

“Thank you…” he mumbled again slumping further down in his bed. His hand slipped off the water bottle when he was distracted but Cas quickly caught it.

 

“Let’s just set that aside for now…”

 

Jack gave him a tiny apologetic look.

 

“I need to check your temperature again,” Cas said, it was his turn to be sorry.

 

Jack gave a soft grumble but used to the routine he let his father place the device in his mouth and leaned back on his pillows.

 

He just handed it over after it beeped without looking, he honestly couldn’t be bothered at this point.

 

“102.3,” Cas announced sighing.

 

Jack’s said nothing coughing tiredly into the back of his hand turning away from Cas and curling up on his bed.

 

“It’s not dangerous, but not good…” Cas explained sitting beside him and gently reaching out to touch his back.

 

“We need to bring your fever down.”

 

“Nothing else…” Jack grumbled moodily. he’d already been strongarmed into drinking that gross pink medicine and water, he didn’t want anything else, he wasn’t even sure if what he’d had already would stay in his stomach, he just wanted to rest.

 

He tried to scoot away from Cas’s hand but moving made his head hurt so he quickly gave up.

 

“Jack…” Cas’s eyebrows screwed up in concern but he pulled his hand away, “please…”

 

“No…” Jack hunched his shoulders he pulled his knees up to his chest and hid his face in the rumpled blankets he felt too hot to use.

 

“Leave me alone…” his voice choked with tears.

 

“I can’t Jack… I'm just trying to..."

 

Jack grabbed his pillow and pulled it to block his ears.

 

Cas sat mouth open in mild shock. He was at a loss, he'd never seen Jack act like this. He’d seen him upset, seen him angry, but never like this. When he'd been sick and dying he'd never fully lost his sunny disposition.

 

Cas sighed softly, reaching over to further ruffle the rumpled sandy brown hair sticking out from underneath Jack’s pillow.

 

“Jack… please talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

 

It took a full minute for Jack to respond, Cas was sure he wasn’t going to until he finally heard a soft broken, “I hate this…”

 

Jack’s hands went lax and he let Cas pull the pillow away, tears were rolling silently down his face and he was still looking determinedly away.

 

“Jack…” Cas said hesitantly setting his hand back on the boy’s shoulder, and that sent the boy over the edge.

 

Jack’s face contorted and his entire body tensed up, for a moment Cas panicked thinking he was going to vomit again but then Jack sobbed, his whole body shaking with the force of the tears.  

 

The next thing he knew Jack had turned back to him and he was clinging to Cas like his life depended on it. 

 

“What do you mean, what do you hate?” Cas asked just holding the boy close bewildered.

 

Jack took deep shaky breaths scrubbing at his eyes roughly trying to control the tears, “I… I hate… being human...” he spat out.

 

Cas opened his mouth, sighed and then shut it. He knew the feeling. Seen the way losing their grace had torn apart angels who were older than either one of them.

 

“Wh-what’s even the point of this?” Jack sucked in air and coughed roughly, chest and throat irritated from the sobs, “at least…” he breathed,  “when I was dying, there was a reason. This... just… hurts…”

 

Cas’s chest jolted but again, he didn’t know how to respond but he thought he understood, he’d been on the verge of death before. 

 

It was so much easier to be brave when you knew it was just for a few more weeks, days, hours, like running a sprint. Putting up with agony made sense when every minute counted and you didn’t want the last memories you created on earth to be of pain. Because you had to make what time you had left count.

 

Not like this, suffering needlessly, miserably.  

 

Jack felt like death warmed over, like he’d been spinning in a microwave for ten minutes, because of a stupid virus. Something so mundane and tiny that he couldn’t even see and didn’t really understand. Because his human body had betrayed him again, and for what?

 

Jack's voice kept hitching as he sobbed. “Everything is w-weak and messed up, even m-my head, I can’t even… think like before.”

 

Cas remembered being human vividly, the deep anxiety of the first few days. Even without the threat of his angry brethren, a slip, a fall. Starvation if he couldn’t find food, but suffocation if he swallowed something poorly, the tiniest thing going wrong and he’d be gone forever. Eventually, he’d learned to cope with and even enjoyed his time but…

 

But he wasn’t Jack, a being who from the beginning was both more powerful and more human than he’d ever be.

 

He also wasn’t a year and a half old and only just starting to get a handle on his body worked normally.

 

“Jack…”

 

“I can’t,” Jack continued pulling away to hug himself, “E-everyone else can deal with it… Sam, Dean…” Jack coughed harshly and Cas offered him his water again but he shook his head vehemently.

 

“I thought maybe it… it was because… I was dying then, but everything is foggy and... and off and small and wrong,” he sniffled, “all the time, and this? Just makes it w-worse…”

 

“I know it’s painful and being human can…” Cas searched for a softer word than what came to his head, “suck, but you’re going to heal from this, and your grace will come back.”

 

“When?” Jack barked, “In a hundred y-years?” he hic-coughed into the back of his hand shoulders shaking, he was working himself up into a fit, Cas had to calm him down, quickly.

 

“You don’t know it will take that long,” he tried.

 

“It could!” he choked shaking and rubbing at his nose angrily, “I-I’m useless and, and clumsy I can’t do anything real, I’m stupid and weak and I throw up on people I…”

 

Cas just hugged him close as the boy shook with sobs, “You’re not useless, you’re strong, and smart, and kind… and still learning, and I love you.”’

 

Jack just snuffled softly, hitched breathing starting to slow, “I-I’m so.. So tired…”

 

Cas finally let himself relax, “I know… and after you take this medicine I’ll leave you alone to sleep, I promise.”

 

Jack quietly sniffled for a moment before he responded, voice soft and young, “don’t leave me... please.”

 

Castiel had never taken care of a sick human alone before, not like this, he’d relied considerably on Sam and Dean when Jack had been dying, he only really knew what Sam told him, but… Jack’s eyes, nose, and cheeks were red from illness and tears and he smelled like sweat and the sickly sweet heat of fever and he was looking at him pleading and upset. Jack was even more lost than Cas was.  

 

_He needs you_

 

“Alright,” Cas gently ruffling his sweaty damp hair,  “then I’ll stay.”

 

Being careful not to jostle the weeping boy too much Cas reached over to the side table for the Nyquil.

 

Jack just continued to sniffle eyeing the bottle with suspicion

 

“This is supposed to help with,” Cas turned the bottle around in his hands, “Fever, pain, cough, congestion... basically everything the ‘Pepto’ didn’t.”

 

Jack hesitantly took the cup when it was offered to him, staring at it.

 

“It will help you sleep too…” Cas promised.

 

Still looking at Cas wary and teary the entire time Jack slowly drank the medicine. 

 

Cas finally relaxed quickly taking away the empty cup away when he’d finished, “that wasn’t so terrible was it?”

 

Jack shrugged pulling a face, “They all taste horrible, just like vegetables.”

 

Cas smiled a little bemused, “Flu medication tastes like vegetables?”

 

“No,” Jack pouted at him, “It seems like… everything good for you tastes bad and anything that tastes good rots your teeth, or,  or...” He squinted and rubbed at his forehead trying to think past the molten muck gumming up his brain, “your bones or something.”

 

“Life is like that sometimes,” Cas stifled a laugh.

 

Jack sniffled softly eyes started to water and voice hitching when he spoke again, “I don’t know why… I’m getting so upset, I’ve… literally died before, this is, stupid.”

 

Cas smiled ruefully, “Jack, I’ve literally been through _all_ of the plagues, I've watched them wipe out dozens of civilizations slowly and painfully, but after everything that’s happened lately…” Cas trailed off, “maybe it’s because you’re mine, but, seeing you sick again, even if I know you’ll be alright, it terrifies me…”

 

“Have you ever been sick before?” Jack muttered starting to sink down in his bed head leaning on Cas’s stomach.

 

“I’ve been… poisoned, hungover, horrifically cursed…” Cas thought for a moment, “I guess the closest thing would be when I stole another angel’s grace and it began rotting away…” 

 

Cas paused giving Jack a sheepish look suddenly remembering the incident with Gabriel’s grace, - _he still had a man to kill over that_ \- “Which you are not going to try again right?”

 

Jack nodded nonplussed, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

 

Cas smiled appeased before continuing “It was… a miserable experience, like having something wither and die inside of you. I’ve also heard it compared to drug withdrawal.”

 

Cas paused again, “don’t do drugs, Jack.”

 

Jack tilted his head in befuddlement but nodded again.

 

“Taking another angel’s grace is a horrific act in general, it seemed necessary at the time, but could have easily eventually killed me…” Cas paused again, “though honestly, that seems to be a pattern around here.” 

 

“I won’t do drugs or try to steal someone’s grace,” Jack cleared his throat and sighed tiredly, “Maybe… maybe it’s better that I don’t have my powers…”

 

Cas blinked confused by the sudden shift, “I thought you wanted your grace back?”

 

Jack was quiet, eyes focusing for a moment on his mother’s picture perched on the nightstand, “I hate being weak, getting sick, not able to... do anything, but maybe that’s selfish…”

 

“Selfish?”

 

Jack nodded and cleared his throat, “When I’m human, at least I can’t hurt anyone else…”

 

Cas could feel his proverbial heart tear in half somewhere in the celestial plain, “Jack that’s not true…”

 

The boy’s eyes watered all this talking was like taking sandpaper to his throat but had to say it, “how… how many people are dead because of me? Because of the rift, because of my powers, because I’ve been stupid. I can’t ever do enough to make up for it like this… but at least I can’t make things worse.”

 

Cas was at a loss, how could Jack think something like that? had he really failed him that fully? “You’re so young Jack, and you have powers beings a millennium old would make mistakes with. Bad things have happened yes, but you’ve always done things because you wanted to make things better, expecting you to always get things right all the time is insane. Given the power, I already know I’d do worse.”

 

Jack’s hand tightened around the fabric of Cas’s trench coat, voice quiet and rough, “Dean said… you believed in me because I showed you paradise, but I… I can barely remember that, and all I’ve done is make things worse, I don’t even deserve to be here…”

 

It tore Cas apart that any of that had been true in the beginning. He believed Jack could do good for the world, fix things, he still thought he could someday. In the beginning, he had thought of Jack as a weapon and a sword, of what he could do versus who he was before he was born. Maybe he'd been just as bad as heaven or hell... but that hadn’t been true for a very long time.

 

He thought of Kelly and how much she’d loved Jack, the child she’d never gotten to meet in life, her love was infectious.

 

And then Jack had been born.

 

This boy, with his big heart and warm smile, who loved him so much, who looked at him like he was the center of his world…

 

Maybe Jack would turn out to be bad for the world in the end. But since when had the world been Cas's top priority?

 

Jack deserved to have a childhood, he deserved to grow up and learn how the world worked slowly at his own pace, to gradually come into his powers.

 

Instead, he’d been immediately placed under the impossible weight of unimaginable power and the inevitable consequences that came with handing a newborn a nuclear bomb.

 

It was the world being the shitty place that it was that had put him in that position…

 

Maybe Cas was a fool for believing what he had in the beginning.

 

Maybe Jack being born human would have been better for the world and for Jack, but not in the way the boy thought, never like that.

 

Cas hadn't brought Jack back from the dead and given up his life to _The Shadow_ for the world's sake.

 

“You’ve done so much good Jack, but don’t have to save everyone's life to deserve to live,” Cas told him lowering his voice. Jack didn’t respond just sniffled tiredly not focusing on anything in particular now, the spurt of emotional adrenaline gone replaced with limp exhaustion.

 

Cas continued slowly stroking the boy’s hair, “I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that way. It wasn’t fair of me to put that on you, If I could…” he sighed, he was never the best at explaining himself with words. Communication of intent and thought were so much easier when your family existed as light and energy.

 

_Fuck the world, he loved his son. It didn’t deserve him, not the other way around._

 

Cas sighed and slowly shrugged off his trenchcoat, carefully shifting it out from under his body and Jack’s head. He threw it carefully over the boy since it was thinner than the too warm blankets. Jack curled beneath it.

 

“If we woke up tomorrow as human beings with no knowledge of anything supernatural and we could just be a normal family and your greatest accomplishment was graduating high school… I’d love you just the same. Anything you do more than that is just a bonus.”

 

Jack made a soft humming noise in response, blinking slowly, half asleep, it seemed the cocktail of medicines were finally doing their job. Cas smiled gently stroking his hair.

 

“You are… one of the kindest, most well-meaning people I’ve ever met. I wish things weren’t the way they are but if the kind of power you were born with had to be in anyone’s hands… I’d want it to be with someone like you…”

 

Jack didn’t respond this time having finally, finally drifted off to sleep, head lying pressed up against Cas, snoring softly from the congestion. He didn’t dare move. The boy was so wiped out, he didn’t want to risk shaking away any uneasy rest he managed to get.

 

“Sleep well Jack…” he whispered affectionately.

 

\------

 

It was the early afternoon before Jack woke again, feeling like he was in the Impala with the windows rolled up on in the dead of summer, sweat dripping down his cheek. He groaned softly and kicked at the blankets. 

 

Cas was gone but someone had pulled his covers up to his chin, and the trenchcoat was still laid gently over everything. He pushed everything off him dazedly trying to sit up in bed. His head swam and he breathed out shakily the night before slowly starting to come back into focus.

 

Jack remembered feeling vaguely ill all evening and Dean, Sam, and Cas taking care of him. Dean telling him everything would be okay, Sam gently rubbing his back as he threw up and Cas gently reassuring him about… something.

 

His mouth felt dry and sour as he coughed into his arm, everything ached miserably, clearly, the medicine his dad had given him the night before was wearing off.

 

He groaned softly to himself, his stomach was back at its rocky nonsense and he curled up on his bed, trying to remain as still as possible and not to further aggravate it. Thankfully only tears rose in his throat. Jack hated the flu.

 

He closed his eyes and tried to drift back off to sleep again, but nausea wouldn’t let him do more than doze, and a sound drew his undead body back to the land of the living. He heard movement and a muffled voice from outside his room becoming clearer as it drew closer. He recognized Dean’s voice

 

“Yeah... yeah mom we got back from Ohio fine, everyone’s okay here, well… almost everyone Jack’s sick.”

 

 _Mom…?_ _Mary…_ Dean was talking to Mary. He could just make out her concerned tone on the phone from the other side of the door.

 

“What? No no, god no, not sick sick again, the flu, real nasty one, must have caught it from one of the hunters coming through the bunker…”

 

More muffled worry.

 

“I was just gonna go check on him, Sam’s busy Lysoling… everything and Cas is trying to make a tomato rice soup recipe in case the kid feels like eating…”

 

Jack grumbled a little to himself he wished Cas had just stayed, the smell of food would stick to his clothes.

 

Mary was speaking to Dean again.

 

“I mean, you can talk to him but I think he’s still out and I don’t want to bug him, he didn’t get to sleep until like five and he was up hurling half the night…”

 

Jack might have been embarrassed if he had the energy.

 

“Yeah… seems like the kid’s got a rough couple of days ahead,” Dean’s voice was softer than Jack had ever heard it. 

 

“Oh and uh…” Dean chuckled, “Jack he uh, he Reaganed’ Sam.”

 

Mary sounded confused.

 

“What? No not like the president, like the movie… You know... The Exorcist? You haven’t seen it? You’ll have to come by some time when Jack’s feeling better and we’ll all watch it… Yeah, I’ll send him your get well soon...”

 

There was a warm feeling in Jack’s chest and it wasn’t the unbearable sticky heat of the fever or the burning in his throat and stomach, it was… safety. 

 

Jack found himself smiling softly. His body still felt terrible, like a heavy scratchy blanket wrapped around him far to tight, but he thought maybe being sick with people who loved and cared for him around was better than being healthy and alone.

 

And in any case, Dean's shoes would get payback for his “Reagan” comment later when he tried to make Jack eat saltines when he didn’t want to...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack spends the next few days mimicking a hibernating bear, hanging out with his dads watching Netflix and pirated Disney movies, and unfortunately spending more quality time with the bottom of his bedroom's wastebasket.
> 
> Mary comes to see Jack at some point since she wasn't able to see him when he was sick before and helps Cas with his soup-making endeavors. Explaining that she was talking about Cambell's canned soup when she'd said "the famous Cambell family recipe".
> 
> When Jack starts to feel better Sam caves and lets him have some of the mini candy bars they bought for movie night.
> 
> When they finally all watched The Exorcist Jack refused to talk to Dean for a day and a half, before he forgot what he was mad about.
> 
> All and all Jack would rate the flu -6/10 but he made some warm memories with his family so maybe it was okay in the end.
> 
> -+-+-+-+-+-
> 
> Thank you for joining me on my first sickfic, I hope you've enjoyed it, please send me a comment if you have the time, I really love comments and they help fuel me to write more. 
> 
> I just finished the first chapter of my new AU Fic "What We Lost and What We Have" which has sickfic elements. I'm really excited about it so if you liked this fic maybe check it out. :)
> 
> Have a nice day and see you next time
> 
> \- M

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a sickfic so please forgive me. I could have spent more time editing and drafting this but I promised to have at least the first half done for Jack's birthday.
> 
> Comments help me thrive. So let me know what you liked :)


End file.
